In the technologically simpler era of a hoaxer like Clifford Irving (here and here), perhaps there was some slim chance a public fraud could get away his scheme, or at least he could live well for a good, long time before his deceit undid him. But in our age of extreme connectivity and data trails, there’s no way someone can misrepresent themselves for too long. So why do people continue to perpetrate doomed hoaxes? Pathological behavior, I would assume. But more troublingly: Why do some others continue to cling to a faker’s veracity after the truth has become apparent, as if surrendering on one issue will topple their entire belief system? 

From Gene Maddeus’ LA Weekly story about a drug dealer who feigned being a billionaire intent on purchasing the Los Angeles Dodgers:

“At this point, Dodger fans are desperate to be told two things: That the McCourt era is over, and that the team will win again. Unfortunately, nobody can say those things.

McCourt seems to have every intention of hanging on to the Dodger Stadium parking lots. That would force the new owner into an awkward partnership with the most hated man in Los Angeles.

As for winning, no one can make any promises about that, either — at least not while the bankruptcy sale is pending. The auction is a secret process, and the bidders making a play for the team have signed nondisclosure agreements. Though there have been plenty of leaks, no one is permitted to speak directly to the fans.

No one, except Josh Macciello.

Because, as it turns out, Macciello was never a real contender for the team. He is, instead, a fraud. Despite what he’s told reporter after reporter, and despite what those journalists have dutifully repeated, he does not have billions of dollars. He does not have rights to any gold mines. He is, instead, a convicted drug dealer and a huckster who has used his talents to persuade many people — not just journalists — to place their confidence in him. In his wake he has left a string of abandoned projects and broken promises.

The Dodger play is his boldest stunt so far. And, judged strictly as a bid for attention, it was a fantastic success. Reporters and fans ate up the tale of the regular guy who wanted to buy the team. Never mind the gaping holes in that narrative: At the end of the day, it was a great story.

Macciello is such a charismatic force that people continue to believe in him, even when confronted with evidence of his deceit. Provided with some of that information, his publicist, Cindy Rakowitz, continues to stand up for him. ‘I really do believe he has the money somewhere, somehow, some way,’ she says. ‘I want to believe.'”

•••••••••••

“All his life he was a million-to-one shot”: